The Challenge Collection
by Snowblazehollyleafstar
Summary: A collection for short works written for challenges and assignments for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges. Latest update: Daphne tries to cheer her sister up over a game of Exploding Snap.
1. Sibling Love

Written for:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment #3, Magical Law and Government Task 7: Write about playing a game.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The Insane Prompt Challenge: (relationship type) Siblings

Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges, Are You Crazy Enough To Do It Challenge prompt 103: (character) Astoria Greengrass

Word count: 544 words excluding Author's Note.

* * *

"Snap!" called Astoria triumphantly.

Daphne smiled and handed her younger sister three cards from the pile in front of her. "Oh, dear," she said, "I'm going to run out of cards soon."

Astoria grinned. "I knew I was going to win!" she said.

"It's not over yet," replied Daphne, flipping the next card and glancing quickly at the top of her pile. It didn't match.

"Do you have to go back to Hogwarts, Daph?" asked Astoria quietly. "I don't want to spend another whole year without you."

Daphne frowned. "It's not a whole year," she said, thinking of the best way to reassure her sister. "I'll be home at Christmas, and then Easter. And then next year you'll be able to come, too. Won't that be great?"

Astoria reached out to turn the next card. "Christmas is nearly three months away. And there's nothing to do here without you."

Daphne couldn't think of a response to this. She knew only too well how boring it could be. She'd gone through it herself, after all. "I'll write to you," she said.

"Every day?" asked Astoria.

"I'll probably be too busy to write every day," admitted Daphne. "But twice a week." She saw Astoria's face fall and quickly tried to think of something to prevent the younger girl from crying. "Do you want ice cream for dinner?" she asked, turning another card over.

Astoria smiled. "Yes!"

"Snap!" called Daphne, taking advantage of her sister's distraction to slam her hand down on the pile of cards.

"Not fair," protested Astoria half-heartedly, too excited at the prospect of ice-cream to be disappointed.

"Life isn't fair," said Daphne. "You can get up on your moral high horse if you like, but you're only going to end up losing. If you want to win, you need to be ruthless. And less easily distracted."

Astoria aimed a playful punch at her sister's arm. "I am not easily distracted!"

Daphne pulled hastily back to dodge her sister's blow and pulled her wand from her pocket. "Careful," she said, "otherwise I might have to jinx you."

"You're not allowed to use magic in the holidays," said Astoria, but all the same she watched the point of Daphne's wand closely.

Daphne twirled the wand around her fingers, watching Astoria's eyes dart about, trying to follow its tip. "The Ministry won't be able to follow up on it. They can detect underage magic but not the perpetrator."

"Per-pe-tray-tor," repeated Astoria slowly. "What does that mean?"

"It's like… someone who does something. Like if I stole your toys, say, I'd be the perpetrator of the crime."

Astoria nodded.

"So, they'd think Mum or Dad had done it and I had nothing to do with it," concluded Daphne with a smile.

"I'd tell them," said Astoria.

"The Ministry?"

"No, Mum and Dad. They wouldn't be happy with you."

"Little snitch," said Daphne affectionately. "Fine, I won't jinx you." She slipped her wand back into her pocket. "It's your turn."

Astoria flipped over the next card. "Will you ask Mum and Dad about the ice cream?"

"Of course I will," replied Daphne.

"Love you, Daph!" said Astoria, reaching across the pile of cards to give her sister a hug.

"Love you too," Daphne said, hugging her sister back.


	2. Most Extraordinary

Written for the Random Relationship challenge: write about Daphne Greengrass and Horace Slughorn as rivals.

And Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry assignment 5, Women's History Task Four: Write about someone experiencing great success.

Word count: 701 words excluding Author's Note.

* * *

Daphne glanced over at Slughorn, hoping desperately that he wasn't ahead of her, even though she knew he would be. After all, he had always been top of his class in Potions and had several years' more experience than she did.

They were each focused intensely on the brewing of Amortentia, as part of the incredibly tough entrance examinations of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. The process had been gruelling and there were only two of them left from the twelve applicants there had been at the beginning of the year.

This was the final test. Whoever performed the best with this potion would be granted membership of the Society.

Daphne looked away from her rival and returned to her own potion, which she carefully stirred thrice anti-clockwise before leaving it to simmer gently. Meanwhile, she returned to the precise chopping of her Gurdyroot with her silver dagger.

A pearly sheen began to rise from the cauldron and she caught a faint whiff of the scent of morning dew. She knew already, from experience three years ago in her N.E.W.T. potions class, what Amortentia smelt like for her: morning dew, her sister's hair and the slightly musty scent of a certain former classmate's clothes. Her potion was working. She smiled.

"Five minutes left," said the man who was running the entrance exams.

Daphne felt her heart beat faster and told herself firmly not to panic. Five minutes was enough for what she needed to do. She finished chopping her Gurdyroot and counted to twenty under her breath before using the dagger to scrape it into the cauldron.

It immediately turned from pale purple to clear and colourless, and Daphne began to smell her sister's hair. She carefully picked up the little rod and stirred the cauldron: three anti-clockwise, two clockwise, and then all she had to do was let it simmer for three minutes. Perfect timing.

She glanced over at Slughorn: he was just a fraction ahead of her, and had been watching her for a few seconds. They didn't meet each other's eye: each knew that they could be about to shatter the other's dreams.

While Daphne was waiting, she tidied up her ingredients. She had learnt through experience that a messy potioneer would not get very far: even a tiny amount of contamination could be disastrous.

Eventually the examiner told them to wait outside the large room in which the tests had been taking place while their potions were tested and examined and a decision was made.

Daphne and Slughorn walked quickly out of the room. The door was closed behind them, and they stood awkwardly outside in the corridor.

"Greengrass – " said Slughorn haltingly, after a long silence. "I know we haven't always got on that well, but I just want you to know – if they choose you – I won't hold it against you. You're just as worthy of this as I am."

"I don't think it's likely I'll be chosen," said Daphne honestly. "It's much more likely that you will. But… thank you, and I won't hold it against you either."

Daphne and Slughorn had never had the best relationship, but they were rivals, rather than enemies. This was good news for both of them that they were able to be civil to each other outside of Potions. Still, they would never be friends and they didn't have anything else to say to each other.

So they stood, and they waited nervously, Daphne twisting her hair around her finger as was her habit when worried. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the door opened and the examiner came out.

"I'd like to congratulate both of you on your excellent brewing," he said. "Regrettably, however, we can only admit one of you into the Society. We have analysed your potions, and a decision has been made."

He paused, possibly for dramatic effect. "On behalf of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers, I would like to formally welcome Daphne Greengrass to our ranks."

It took all Daphne's self-control not to scream in delight. Instead she merely smiled and stepped forward to shake his hand. "Thank you," she said. "I would be delighted to accept." She had done it!


	3. Loony Girl

Luna lay curled in a ball in the centre of her new bed, curtains pulled tightly shut so she could escape the hostile stares of her new dorm-mates. They were talking about her again.

"She's really crazy," said Sarah MacDonald, a red-headed half-blood with a big mouth. "I mean, she told me I was infested with Wrackspurts, what the hell is that meant to mean?"

"Yeah, I don't have a clue what she's talking about. Her father is the editor of that weird magazine, what's it called…" This was Lucy Davidson. She'd sat in the same compartment as Luna on the Hogwarts Express, and had seemed nice until now.

"The Quibbler?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah, that's the one. I reckon she gets it from him."

Luna tried to tune out the discussion. It stung to hear what these people thought of her, even though she'd always thought she didn't care. They were all infested with Wrackspurts that closed their minds and stopped them from thinking clearly.

"I've never read that," said another girl – Emily King, a Muggle-born. "I mean, I didn't realise what she says makes no sense. To me magic makes no sense."

"Yeah, I guess it must seem a bit overwhelming. But Loony doesn't help anything, she's just weird."

Luna felt a surge of anger. _It's not their fault, _she reminded herself. _Wrackspurts. _They just couldn't understand her. She wanted to get one of her textbooks or the latest edition of the _Quibbler _to read, but all her stuff was under the bed and she'd have to emerge from the safety of her curtains to get at it.

Since when had she been afraid of what other people had thought? Like her mother always used to say, _as long as you're happy to be yourself, none of that matters._ Before she could change her mind, she grabbed hold of the curtain and tugged it, hard.

The girls who had been discussing her all winced as they saw her giving them a calm stare.

"You know I can hear you through the curtains, right?" she asked. "_My _brain hasn't been addled by Nargles."

That silenced them, if only for a moment, and she took full advantage of it to open her trunk and pull out the _Quibbler_. Then, still appearing perfectly calm and normal, she jumped back onto the bed and pulled the curtain shut again.


	4. Snowballs and Love

"It is cold," said Fleur. "The weather is much warmer in France than it is here."

"I know," Bill agreed, smiling at his wife of five months, "but we do have one thing you don't in France."

"What is that?" Fleur asked.

Bill bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. Years of practice from being the eldest of seven siblings came in very handy as he threw it, hard, at Fleur. "Snow!"

Fleur ducked, but too late: the snowball hit her in the side. "You will pay for this!" she spat, gathering up her own snowball. With a flick of her wand, she made the snowball fly towards Bill.

He had forgotten his wife's formidable charm skills, which she had used to great effect in the Triwizard Tournament. But he wasn't a curse-breaker for nothing.

Soon bewitched snowballs were flying back and forth. Bill had flung up a strong shield, but Fleur was able to simply levitate her snowballs around it, even if that reduced their speed and bought him time to dodge.

Bill threw one snowball with his left hand, and with his right used his wand to levitate three in a row and hurled them straight at Fleur.

Then he blinked, and she was suddenly unbearably beautiful. He couldn't bring himself to hurt her, he wanted to kiss her and love her and never take his eyes off her. "Fleur…" he said thickly, "don't do that to me…"

Without seeming to do anything except flick her hair from side to side, Fleur went back to her normal (still incredibly beautiful) self.

"I love you anyway," he said, "you don't need to be stunning like that."

"You like it, though?"

"Well, yes, but I like you more."

"I am glad to hear it. It is cold now. Will you make me some hot chocolate?"

"Of course I will, darling," said Bill. He wrapped his arm around her shivering form (of course, Veela were very sensitive to the cold; he should have thought of that before starting a snowball fight) and led her up the garden to Shell Cottage.

Soon they were safely inside the building, enjoying the wonders of Muggle central heating. Bill used his wand to heat up the two cups of milk instantly, and they stirred two teaspoons of dark brown powder each into their mugs and sat sipping them together on the sofa.

"Sorry about that," said Bill. "I should have remembered about the cold. Are you okay?"

"A little cold," Fleur admitted. "But I will warm up. It is fine. We can snuggle together."

Bill tried to act normal, as if snuggling with a quarter-Veela was something he did every day. It still took him a moment to realise that it was, even though they'd been married five months already. Every day it seemed like a fresh miracle.

He wrapped his arm slowly around her and pulled her closer. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," replied Fleur. Bill's heart soared to heights he had never known it could reach.


	5. Television Troubles

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry assignment #7, Creative Technology Task One: write about a young person struggling to use something new.

* * *

"How the hell does this thing work?" said Ernie to himself, staring in puzzlement at the "telly-vision". He had only been in the Muggle world for a few hours, and was already completely bewildered by all the new technologies and inventions they'd come up with. It was certainly quite an experience.

Justin was upstairs, still unpacking his things, and his parents were downstairs making lunch for the two boys, so Ernie decided to experiment with the television himself. How hard could it be, if even Muggles could do it?

He picked up the remote control, which was apparently sort of like a wand but it only worked for the television, and began randomly pressing buttons. The first four or five didn't do anything but when he pressed a big blue one with a circle-like symbol the blank screen lit up a bright white, and the words "Loading… please wait…" appeared on it.

Ernie waited (less and less patiently) for about a minute before the screen began to show a large room with a man sitting at a desk in the centre of it.

"BBC News at two o'clock," said the man very loudly.

Ernie panicked and began frantically pressing buttons. He only succeeded in making the man even louder, switching to what looked like a car advert, and turning on the subtitles so that he could read the voice in the background's words (_Honda. A car for all the family.)_

"Um…" he called, deciding that this was too tricky for him to work out. "Justin?"

He could just about hear footsteps coming downstairs over the next advert (an annoying toothpaste jingle) and then his friend arrived in the living room and snatched the control away from Ernie. In about ten seconds Justin turned the volume down so that they could hear themselves think, removed the subtitles and switched back to the news.

"Sorry," said Ernie slightly sheepishly. He had had no idea that Muggle things were so complicated

"It's fine," said Justin. "I'll show you how to work this thing properly some other time." He pressed the off switch. "Now I'm starving. Let's go and have our lunch. Mum's made hot dogs!"

Ernie grinned, and the two boys made a beeline for the kitchen.


	6. Study Partners

For Hermione in Space, Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges, Monthly One-shot Exchange: (relationship) platonic Hermione/Neville, (genre) friendship, (word) diplomacy, (dialogue) "Why does the world have to be so _stupid?_", (restriction) no characters aged 13 or older.

And Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 8, Foreign Exchange Task One: write about a witch or wizard who is viewed as inept.

Word count: 652 words excluding A/N

* * *

"Hermione, can I have some help with my homework?"

Hermione glanced up from her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_, which she was reading for the third time, to see Neville standing awkwardly next to the table. She'd already done her own homework, so there was no reason why she shouldn't help him.

"Sure," she said. "What subject?"

"History of Magic," replied Neville, his face lighting up at her agreement. "Fifteen inches on how the use of diplomacy could have prevented the rebellion of Elfric the Eager. I don't have a clue, so if I could just borrow your notes…"

Hermione nodded. She didn't have a personal problem with Professor Binns, but she was well aware of how tricky her classmates found it to pay attention to him. "Gimme a sec," she said shutting her book and standing up, "my notes are in my trunk."

She walked quickly up to her dormitory, and returned five minutes later with the notes in question. "Okay," she said, "let's start at the beginning."

Neville pulled out parchment and quill.

"So… what do you know about the uprising of Elfric the Eager?"

"Not much," muttered Neville. "Only that he was a goblin, and he wasn't happy with the way wizards were treating the goblins…"

"That's right," said Hermione gently. "So: the uprising took place in 1438, because Elfric was annoyed that the then Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, a man called Henry de Montfort, had imposed a heavy tax on goblins as a means of paying for…"

She patiently explained the exact circumstances leading to the uprising, and helped Neville to plan his essay, but she left the actual writing to him. When she read through it afterwards, she was surprised by how good the essay was.

A few days later, he asked for help again, this time with a Transfiguration essay. Hermione found herself enjoying helping him: she'd always liked being able to help others with their work, and Neville was actually quite good once you started asking the right questions and believed in him a bit more.

It became a regular thing: every week or two he'd ask for help in one of the trickier assignments the first-years had been given, and they'd work through whatever it was together. It was a couple of months later, while they were writing about Flobberworm mucus together in the quiet Gryffindor common room one weekend, that he said, "Why am I so bad at this?"

"You're not," said Hermione immediately, and was surprised to find that she wasn't just lying to reassure him: he actually wasn't bad at it.

"But Professor Snape says – "

"Professor Snape!" said Hermione indignantly. "He hates all Gryffindors, you shouldn't listen to what he says. You are not bad at Potions, or indeed any other subject, Neville."

"It's not just him," said Neville, "the other teachers… Professor Sprout is nice, but it feels like the others are all just rolling their eyes and trying not to get angry with me whenever I mess things up."

"You're getting better, Neville, you've improved loads since we've been studying together. And I'm sure the teachers all support you!"

"Draco Malfoy – "

"Again, he hates Gryffindors on principle."

"There were – there were a few Ravenclaws – in second year – and I heard them laughing about how stupid I was – "

Hermione found she was trembling with supressed anger. "Why does the world have to be so _stupid?_" she muttered. "It's not fair! Neville, listen to me. If people call you stupid, then they're wrong. They're the stupid ones, for not being able to see your amazing potential. You're easily the best in the class at Herbology, you're even beating me!"

"Thanks, Hermione," he muttered.

"You're welcome," she replied immediately, smiling at her friend – yes, he was her friend. She cared about him, and wanted to keep helping him. "Just let me know if you need any more help."


	7. Order and Mess

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 9, Beauty Therapy Task Three: write about someone who wants everything to be neat and tidy.

Word count: 479 words excluding A/N.

* * *

"What kind of a mess is this?" asked Padma, gesturing with one hand to the contents of Mandy's trunk: Chocolate Frog wrappers mixed with old textbooks and screwed-up uniform. A horrendous mess.

Mandy rolled her eyes. "It's my mess, and there's no need for you to worry about it." She bit her lip to keep her temper under control.

"What happens if you need some of this stuff?" Padma continued, undeterred. She picked up a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One_, holding the cover between her thumb and index finger at arm's length as if disgusted by the condition of the book, which was covered in the remnants of some Liquorice Wands that Mandy had been eating while reading.

"It's _fine_," insisted Mandy. "I can just use a Cleaning Charm or something."

"You're a first-year, you can't cast a Cleaning Charm yet."

"Then I'll get my big sister to do it, or _whatever_," said Mandy, annoyed now, "you don't need to keep going on about it."

"But isn't it much easier just to keep your stuff organised, like I do?" asked Padma. She lifted the lid of her own trunk to reveal perfectly folded clothes and neatly stacked textbooks. "It really doesn't take that long, and it saves you loads of time later."

"Look, different methods work for different people. You like to keep your things tidy; I don't. We can just get on with living with each other and stop arguing about it!"

Padma sighed. "I'm sorry, I know it can seem like I go on a bit, but I… I just hate mess. I have this need for everything to be just where it belongs instead of sprawled all over the place. It really annoys me when something's not where it should be."

"It's okay," said Mandy, already feeling guilty for her outburst. "I can try and tidy it if you like." After all, they would have to live with each other for the next six and a half years, more or less, so it was worth making the effort to get on well with each other.

"Thanks," said Padma with a grin. "Let me know if you need help."

Mandy nodded and began to pull out everything from the trunk so she could get it organised. The chaos was even worse than she'd thought and she had to admit that Padma was probably right: something needed to be done about it. It was probably a health and safety hazard.

"Chocolate Frog?" asked Padma after a couple of minutes, looking up from the book she was reading on her bed and pulling a couple from her pocket.

"Thanks," Mandy replied, taking one from Padma and unwrapping it. She checked the card quickly, but it was Cliodna, who she already had, so she added the wrapper to her growing rubbish pile and took a bite.


	8. The Adventure Begins

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Assignment #10, Ritual and Ceremonial Magic task one: write a fic featuring a parent and their daughter.

* * *

"So, you know how to get onto the platform?"

"_Yes,_" Hermione told her mum insistently. "Professor McGonagall told both of us: all you need to do is push your trolley through the barrier.

"And you'll write to me?" asked her mum, turning left into the car park of Kings Cross Station.

"Once a week," confirmed Hermione. "If I get the chance. You don't need to keep fussing, Mum, I can cope!"

"It's just – you didn't really make many friends at primary school, did you?"

"No," Hermione admitted, "but this is different, this is a school for witches. I'm going to be a witch and learn magic! I'll be able to start afresh and get to know loads of people." She knew, that she was lying, that no-one would want to be friends with Teacher's-Pet-Bushy-Haired-Buck-Teeth Hermione Granger. But she couldn't let her mother see how desperate she was, how badly they'd bullied her at primary school.

Because there was a good chance that if she found out she'd follow through on her threats to keep Hermione safe at home and not send her to school. And that couldn't happen, because she needed to learn magic.

"If you're sure, darling?" asked her mum, pulling into a short-stay parking space.

"I'm fine," replied Hermione. She waited for the engine to switch off, then undid her seatbelt and reached across to open the passenger-side door. "Let's go."

"Can you go and find a trolley for your luggage, darling? Here's a pound coin – I think they take pound coins, it's a while since I was last here."

Hermione took the coin her mother handed her between two fingers and walked (carefully, checking both ways every time she crossed) through the car park to the trolley-stand. She glanced briefly at the instructions and then fed the pound coin into the nearest trolley. There was a clicking noise and then the trolley sprang free.

It was harder to push than she'd been expecting; in fact, she almost crashed it into a nearby car before getting it under control and steering it back to her own car, where her mother was standing with Hermione's trunk at her feet.

She brought the trolley neatly to a halt and removed her hands with a flourish. "There you are, Mum," she said.

"Thank you, dear." Her mother lifted the trunk up onto the trolley. "Do you want to push it?"

Hermione nodded. It was even harder to push this time now there was a heavy trunk on it (she _almost _regretted packing so many books) but once she got going, she was able to make her way to platform ten without any difficulty, weaving in and out of the busy commuters.

Finally, she stood a few metres away from the barrier and hesitated.

"I'll see you at Christmas, then, Hermione."

"See you at Christmas, Mum." Hermione let go of the trolley to give her mum a hug.

"Bye, darling. Love you."

"Love you too," said Hermione. Then, taking a deep breath, she disentangled her mother's arms, took hold of the trolley again, and began to push it towards the barrier.


	9. Mount Homework

Written for: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment One, Biosciences Task #3: Write about someone climbing a mountain.

And January Writing Month.

Word count: 757 words, not including a/n.

* * *

"They're giving us _how _much homework?" asked Susan.

It was the start of the Hufflepuff friends' O.W.L. year, and after only three days they were already starting to feel the pressure.

"A literal mountain," replied Hannah. "Professor Binns wants a foot and a half on giant wars, Trelawney asked for a dream diary, we need to practice Vanishing Charms for McGonagall, Professor Sprout wants an essay on self-vanishing shrubs…"

Megan groaned. "Am I glad I'm not doing Divination," she said. "Professor Vector didn't give us any Arithmancy homework. Still, this is more than enough to be getting on with."

"So, let's get on with it," said Susan. "I guess they don't call us the house of hard workers for nothing. Time to live up to our name."

The trio all pulled out their quills and parchments. "History of Magic first?" asked Hannah. "That's the worst one out of the way, at any rate."

Megan nodded. "Sounds good. Well, no, not good. But… okay, I suppose. So, giant wars, then. Does anyone actually know what happened in the giant wars?"

"Nope," said Hannah. "No clue. Susan, please tell me you were taking notes."

"Well, I was, but it doesn't really seem very fair to share them with you…"

"Oh, come on," said Megan. "How on earth am I meant to write a whole essay without knowing what I'm meant to be writing about?"

Susan gave in and pulled out an entire sheaf of notes. "The giant wars began when the Gurg of the larges western giant clan, Crimog, ordered his clan to attack the German Ministry of Magic in protest against the treatment of…"

Soon she gave up reading the notes aloud and just put them in the middle of the floor where all three could consult them if they needed to. They wrote in silence for quite a long time: in fact, when Megan looked up from her essay, she was shocked to see that it was nearly nine o'clock. "Does anyone have a tape measure?" she asked.

"Sure," said Hannah. "Hold on, it's buried in my trunk somewhere – ah, here it is." She pulled it out and handed it to Megan, who stretched it out along her essay.

"Still two inches short," she muttered. "Typical, and I'd just got the perfect conclusion worked out as well."

"Give it here," said Susan, stretching out her hand.

Megan gave Susan the tape measure.

"Excellent. I'm more or less done, just need to do my conclusion."

"I'm nowhere near," said Hannah. "I'm not even going to bother measuring it."

"It's 'cause your writing's so small," said Megan. "You've probably written more than me, but my handwriting is quite big."

"Binns should give us a word count rather than a length," grumbled Susan.

"You want to try telling that to him?" asked Hannah. "'Because I sure don't."

Susan flung down her quill triumphantly. "Ta-da!" she said, smiling.

"I'm going to bed," said Hannah. "I'm not going to finish this stupid thing today. Hold on, let me find my pyjamas…"

"Megan?" asked Susan.

"Might as well finish it," replied Megan. "I only have two paragraphs left."

"I'll keep you company," said Susan. "Unlike _some _people," she said, glancing pointedly at Hannah, who was on her way to the bathroom to change into her pyjamas, "I don't think five past nine is bedtime."

"But I'm tired," moaned Hannah. "My mum always makes me go to bed early at home, and whenever I try to stay up late it makes me grumpy the next day."

"Still," said Susan. "You're weird – and I mean that as a compliment."

"Thanks?" said Hannah uncertainly, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

Susan and Megan sat for a while in silence, broken only by the scratching of Megan's quill across the parchment as she wrote. Susan tried to read what Megan was writing, but it was upside down and Megan's writing, though big, was quite messy, so she couldn't make it out.

"Nearly done," said Megan. "One last sentence… there we go!" She put her quill gently down and placed her inkwell on one end of the parchment to stretch it out while the ink dried.

"Hang on," said Susan. "Stick this on the other end." She passed her own inkwell to Megan. "In fact…" With a bit of manoeuvring, the two girls managed to stretch both of their essays out together.

"What shall we do now?" asked Megan.

"Head down to the common room? See what the boys are up to?"

"Sounds good."


	10. Flying in a Metal Can

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Assignment 2, Amulets and Talismans task 6: write about someone flying.

475 words excluding A/N.

* * *

Ginny was flying, and she was utterly terrified. This was not something she was used to, not at all: flying on a broom was second nature to her, she felt more at home in the air than on the ground. Flying in a metal can with a couple of hundred Muggles and no magic keeping it up, on the other hand, was completely awful.

Any moment she expected it to fall out of the sky and crash, landing on one of the little villages below and catching fire, killing hundreds in an instant before they even had time to panic. She clutched at Harry's hand desperately, clinging to him as if he was the only thing keeping her alive.

It had all sounded like such a good idea when Harry had first suggested it: go on a Muggle holiday for their honeymoon, see the sights of North America, eat burgers and chips – no, Americans called them French fries for some bizarre reason – get away from the wizarding world to where they could just be an anonymous pair of newly-weds.

Paradise. Until you took into account the only way the Muggles had of crossing the Atlantic Ocean in less than three weeks.

"You okay, Ginny?" asked Harry.

She shook her head. "We're going to crash," she said, panic rising. "We're all going to crash and die and we're never going to be able to do all the things we wanted to do."

"Ginny," said Harry. "Look at me."

She did, staring directly into his enormous green eyes – not Lily's eyes to her, they were his and his alone. Just the sight of them made her feel calmer, more relaxed. She tried to breathe deeply, normally.

"Ninety-seven thousand planes fly every day. None of them crash. Plane crashes only happen very rarely, when something malfunctions. The likelihood is… I can't remember exactly how likely, but something like one in twenty million. It's never going to happen."

Ginny was not reassured by these statistics. Her palm was sweating, she could feel it sliding across Harry's hand. "It doesn't make sense," she said. "I can't understand, it shouldn't be possible. How is this – this _thing _staying up?"

The note of terror in her voice was easily audible, and now people sitting nearby began to turn and look at her, wondering why she was so afraid.

Harry hesitated for a moment: a Muggle primary school education wasn't good enough for him to know how aeroplanes worked beyond the vaguest approximation, and Ginny wouldn't be able to understand what little he could dredge up from the depths of his mind.

"I… I don't know, to be honest, Ginny, but it's okay. I promise you it's okay. Do you trust me?"

"Yes," whispered Ginny, because she did. If Harry promised her that she'd be fine, she would be. It was that simple.


	11. Midnight Friendship

Written for the following:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 3, Culinary Arts Task 10: Write about something taking a long time.

Trope of the month: (time) night

The Fabulous World of Comics: (word) distant

Showtime: (situation) A secret revealed

Elizabeth's Empire: (setting) midnight

Film Festival: (object) clock

Marvel Appreciation: (plot point) Write about searching for a cure for something

Insane Prompt Challenge: (action) crying

Singles Awareness: (emotion) tired, (characters) Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott.

The Ultimate Battle Competition: Only Slytherin characters

Slytherin Challenge: (character) Daphne Greengrass

944 words without a/n.

* * *

It was midnight when Theo came back down to the Slytherin common room: he'd been unable to sleep for the last hour, tossing and turning, and had decided getting up and walking around would be a good idea. He heard the clock ticking as he came downstairs, sounding almost deafening in the silent night.

The common room was almost deserted: most Slytherins retired early, and those who didn't stayed awake in their dorms instead of the common room. It was an unofficial rule, but one that was rarely broken, that everyone should be in their dorms by half past eleven.

The fire was still lit and burning vigorously, and in one of the armchairs someone was curled up reading a book of some sort, the light of their wand revealing their location.

With nothing better to do, he wandered over and sat in the armchair opposite them. He was startled to recognise his friend Daphne.

"Hey," he said quietly, not wanting to surprise her. "What's kept you up so late?"

Daphne looked up wearily to meet his eyes. "Oh – uh, hey, Theo. I was just reading, and I didn't want to stop, not when I've got to a good point."

But Theo could tell something was wrong with Daphne. Her hair was a mess, her uniform looked as if it had been slept in and there were shadows as dark as any in the common room under her eyes. Why was she up so late reading? What had got her in this state?

"_Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science_," he read off the cover of the book, with a little difficulty in the dim light. "Weren't you reading that last week?"

Daphne nodded. "It's taking a long time," she muttered. "I want to try and understand it, and it's not easy."

The signs of something being wrong were so clear to Theo: thinking back, she'd been distant and buried in a book for the last week or so, and had seemed almost on the verge of tears these last couple of days. He was furious with himself for not noticing earlier, being too wrapped up in classes and homework to keep a proper eye on his friend.

"What's wrong, Daph?" he asked softly. "There is something, isn't there?"

"No," she snapped. "I'm fine, thank you for asking."

But it was blatantly obvious that she was lying.

"I'm serious, Daph. You've been upset for ages recently, you've been out of sorts, distant, isolating yourself, always reading something – what's so important about alchemy or whatever that book is anyway? You need to talk to me. You need to tell me what's wrong so I can help."

"No," she said. "It's personal, I can't talk about it."

"If you don't, I'll have to tell Professor Snape about what's been going on. Perhaps he can sort something out if you won't talk to anyone."

Daphne's mouth dropped open in horror. "Don't – don't you dare," she said, voice trembling. This wasn't the cool, calm, collected Daphne he knew; she was so much younger and more vulnerable than her usual self. "If my parents found out – I can't tell anyone, they said they'd be so angry, and it's really important to keep it a secret – " Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

"Tell me," said Theo. "I swear, I won't tell anyone, but I need to understand, I need to be able to help you and I can't do that if I don't know what the problem is."

Daphne hesitated before saying softly "It's my sister."

"Astoria?" asked Theo. "She's – she's ill or something, isn't she? She's not – dying – is she?"

Daphne broke down and began to sob, taking quick gulps of air, chest rising and falling in a desperate attempt to calm herself. Finally, she choked out "Not – not yet, but – it's… complicated. I – she has this – there's a blood curse, because our great-great-grandmother – and she'll die, she'll die young, unless someone can find a cure, and I'm trying – but – "

"You're trying to find a cure for the blood curse?"

Daphne nodded, trembling, and continued "It's stupid, I know it's impossible – but she had this really bad spell two weeks ago and I'm worried if I don't do anything – if I don't find something – there's no-one else even trying, they all said it's impossible, and it's really rare, no-one else in the whole country has it, they don't care. So I have to do it myself, and it's hard, I don't even know where to start – "

"You can start by not exhausting yourself," said Theo firmly. "How much sleep have you been getting recently?"

"I – enough. Just enough to keep functioning, because I have to keep up with my homework and research the blood curse as much as I can, and there aren't enough hours in the day."

Theo sighed. "Look, you're staying up past midnight, and Blaise says you were up at five yesterday… is that normal?"

Daphne nodded shortly.

"Then no, you're not getting enough sleep. Five or six hours isn't enough."

"I'm just so tired," said Daphne. "But if I sleep, I'll just be wasting time – "

"No," said Theo firmly. "What you're losing in time, you're gaining in actually being awake enough to think straight. You need to sleep. I can help you look into the curse, but you need to look after yourself more than you're doing at the moment. Okay?"

Daphne nodded and slowly got to her feet. "All right. I'll sleep."

They made their way to the stairs at the back of the common room, and as Daphne turned away to the girls' rooms she said softly "Thank you."


	12. Seventh Year

The Hogwarts Express was quieter than it had ever been as Daphne and Astoria dragged their trunks across the platform to find a compartment. It was unsurprising, really: with the Muggle-borns gone and many students from dissident families leaving too, there were far fewer students than normal.

Daphne opened one of the doors and climbed into an empty compartment. She knew she should be sitting with the rest of the older Slytherins (if only to keep up appearances) but couldn't face it. Not yet. She'd find them later, but for now she would just share a compartment with her sister.

"Actually," said Astoria, "I promised Elsie I'd sit with her for a while. If you don't mind."

Daphne shrugged. "It's fine." She would miss the company, but it was nice to know Astoria could still enjoy herself with her friends: she wasn't yet old enough to be of interest to the Dark Lord, to be forcibly married off to some Death Eater.

No-one had suggested this for Daphne, either, but she knew it wouldn't be long. As the daughter of one of the most influential non-Death Eater families they'd want to secure her family's loyalty to the cause.

Astoria opened the door between the compartments and left, her trunk staying where it was. Daphne reached into hers and pulled out an old book on pure-blood etiquette. She knew all of the rules it described by heart, but it was her most precious possession for what it meant as much as what was in it.

"Hey, Daphne. Mind if I join you?"

She looked up to see Theo standing in the doorway. "Sure," she said. Theo was one of the few older Slytherins who weren't committed to the cause, and as such someone she could stand to talk to. They had, after all, been friends ever since their first year.

Theo sat down opposite her, and she noticed for the first time that something looked different about him: he seemed almost to have shrunk into herself over the Christmas holidays. Everything in his body language expressed guilt to an experienced reader of people. It was obvious that he was troubled.

"What's wrong?"

Theo smiled grimly and rolled back the sleeve of his left arm to reveal a familiar sight, worn now openly and without fear: the mark of skull with serpent's tongue, branded into his skin.

Theo was a Death Eater.

"I'm sorry, Daphne," he said. "I know you didn't want me – I don't want it either, I don't want any part of it. They – they made me torture a Muggle to death to earn the Mark, and the screaming… it was… sorry. I shouldn't talk to you about it. You don't want to know."

Daphne cringed. Out of habit, she glanced out of the window, making sure no-one was listening. "No," she agreed. "I don't. But you need to talk about it. Tell me. I can cope."

"Thank you," replied Theo. "It was… just… so awful. He was Terry's dad. I used to be Terry's friend – before – you know, all this, and to have to do that to your best friend's dad is…" He let out a deep, shuddering sigh. "I feel like I've become… something unbearable. Something I promised myself I'd never become."

"It's not your fault," said Daphne instinctively. "Really. It isn't. You didn't have a choice, they would have done worse things if… refusing wouldn't have helped anything. It would have just been throwing your life away for nothing."

"I know. But I… maybe that would be better than becoming a monster."

"No!" said Daphne instantly. "You're not a monster, Theo. You're just… a victim of circumstance. You can't take all this guilt on yourself. Just… just do only as much as you have to, prove you're loyal to the, and then just try to – to go on. I know it's not easy, but it's all we can do, isn't it?" It was the best advice she could find.

He nodded.

"So let's talk about something else. Just… ordinary day-to-day life." She cast around for something normal and ordinary to say, but all she could find was "Are Draco and Pansy still together?"

"Oh, not gossip," said Theo with a mock groan. "I don't care who fancies who!"

"Liar," said Daphne. "When I was dating Blaise last year you were pretty curious about it."

"That's different, you two are my best friends."

"Sure," said Daphne, smiling inwardly. She'd succeeded in cheering up the conversation, and just for once they could enjoy a few minutes of normal, Death-Eater-free life.


	13. Draco's Despair

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment Four, Herbology Task Five: Write a story set around a campfire, hearth or fireplace.

And the Ultimate Battle Competition: Death Eater main character.

723 words, without A/N.

* * *

The fire in the Slytherin common room blazed bright and warm. The newest Death Eater sat in an armchair as close to it as he could get, rocking back and forth and hoping the warmth would bring him comfort. No such luck: that one thought kept running through his head again and again and again.

The Dark Lord wanted him to kill Dumbledore.

The _Dark Lord_ wanted _him _to kill _Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_. The defeater of Grindelwald, leader of the Order of the Phoenix.

Draco was sixteen years old. What hope did he have?

He had plans, yes: a cursed necklace, some kind of poison. A well-placed Imperius Curse, he'd learnt, could work wonders. And then there was the best plan of all: repair the Vanishing Cabinet and use it to get Death Eaters into Hogwarts. But… repairing a Vanishing Cabinet wasn't easy, even with Borgin's advice and the Room the Dark Lord had told him about at his disposal.

It would take all year, and the Dark Lord was not known to be a patient man. And Draco knew he wasn't meant to succeed. This was a punishment for Lucius's failure in the Hall of Prophecy: he would be given an impossible mission, and when he inevitably failed, he would be killed.

It was hopeless.

"Hey, Draco," said a girl's voice.

He looked up, expecting to see Pansy, but in fact it was Daphne. "Hello, Daphne," he said coldly. "Is there something you wanted?"

The two Slytherins had never really got along, despite the many things they had in common. Both were from the most powerful and ancient pure-blood families, both had some of the highest grades in the year, but their attitudes were just completely different: Draco showed off his power and influence, using it directly in any way he could, whereas Daphne was more subtle and reserved.

"Maybe I just came to talk for a little," replied Daphne, a slight edge to her voice. She sat down without being asked in the armchair next to Draco's.

"Yeah, right," scoffed Draco. "When have you ever done anything without an ulterior motive?"

Daphne shot him a glare. "Okay, so maybe my father asked me to find out what's going on with… you-know-who."

"And why should I tell you anything? How do I know I can trust you?"

"I can keep a secret, Draco. You should know that by now. My father… knows it's time to choose a side, but he's not taking any decisions until he has a more complete picture of the situation. He knows the official Ministry line, but he wants an inside story from the Death Eaters… and I thought you might know something."

"We're going to win the war. Everything's going excellently."

"You're just saying what you want me to hear. I need specific detail."

Draco was seized with a sudden, crazy impulse: to tell her the truth. To tell her what he had to do. She was, after all, the closest thing there was to neutral in this war, and she was right: she most certainly could keep a secret, if she needed to. No-one would ever find out if he told her.

Before he could consider how terrible an idea it was, the words tumbled from his lips: "He wants me to kill Dumbledore."

Daphne's mouth fell open in shock and she flinched instinctively away before regaining her composure. "But… that makes no sense. Surely he'd ask Professor Snape, wouldn't he?"

"He doesn't plan for me to succeed. He plans to watch me fail, and then… and then kill me. To punish my father for what happened at the Department of Mysteries." Suddenly he felt a flash of his old self: the bragging, boastful boy who always had to be the best. Always had to succeed. "But I'm not going to fail. I'm going to do it, and then I'll be the Dark Lord's favourite. I have a plan, I know I can make it work."

Daphne knew he was lying as well as he did, of course, but he was determined to at least pretend he could succeed. Maybe he could. It was possible, and Draco wasn't giving up any time soon. He was going to make this work if it killed him.

After all, if it didn't work, he'd be dead anyway.


	14. Lily, Angry

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 5, Wandlore task four: Write about someone being forceful about something.

And Ultimate Battle Competition: Lily Evans

711 words excluding A/N.

* * *

Lily sighed as she saw James Potter stroll casually through the portrait hole and walk in her direction. That was all she needed right now. Why did it have to be now, of all times?

"Hey, Evans!" he said, dumping his bag on the floor and sitting down opposite her. "Mind if I sit here?"

She glanced up from her Potions essay and rolled her eyes. "Evidently not, since you didn't bother to wait for my answer," she replied, dipping her quill into her inkwell.

"Glad to hear it. How's your day been?"

She didn't bother to look up this time, merely saying acidly "It was quite good until _you _walked into it" and wondering what she was going to write next. He had her flustered now, and she'd lost the thread of her words. She'd just worked out exactly what she was going to say, and now she couldn't think of it.

Something about neutralising… that was it: _Moonstone is used to neutralise the reaction of ingredients that could otherwise cause an explosion_. She began to write it down, precisely shaping each letter with the sharp point of her quill.

"Please, Evans, you don't mean that, do you? I just want to talk to you for a bit!"

"Well, I don't want to talk to you, so please go away and leave me alone so I can focus." _It is usually ground into a fine powder using a pestle and mortar so it can be easily dissolved into the potion. _

"I fancy sitting here, that's all. I won't disturb you or anything."

Lily snorted, but continued to ignore him. They sat in silence for a minute or so, Lily writing another paragraph while James sprawled across his chair and watched her intently.

Finally she couldn't take it any more. She looked up from her essay and said "Look, just because Severus and I aren't friends any more doesn't mean I like you. You're still an arrogant, bullying toe-rag who does stupid mean things and calls them _pranks_. And I will never, ever, go out with you so you might as well stop wasting your time."

He looked genuinely wounded by this. "I'm sorry if – "

"Oh, shut up! You boys are all the same: sorry this, sorry that, anything you want, Miss Lily, but the moment my back's turned you're trying to kill each other and losing Gryffindor about a hundred points in the process, and you think I'll like you for it?"

She surprised even herself with the ferocity of that rant: she was still furious with all of them, Severus and James and those fools who called themselves Marauders, and it had all just slipped out.

He threw up his hands in surrender. "Geez, Evans, take it easy, I just wanted to talk! I know I can be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but I'm trying, okay?"

"I'll believe that when I see it," she said sceptically. "You can start by going away, because I do not want to talk to you right now."

"If I go away, will you talk to me later?"

"I'm not promising you anything, and I'm not bribing you to go away."

"Well, I'm not leaving until you do promise me something. How about a kiss?"

Lily threw her inkwell at him, splattering his robes with ink. It fell to the ground and smashed. "No," she said. "Not in a million years."

"_Scourgify,_" said James. "You don't mean that. You're just in denial about your feelings for me."

"I hate you," muttered Lily through gritted teeth. She pulled her wand from her sleeve and waved it over the shattered remains of the inkwell. "_Reparo._ I'm serious. Go away or I might have to jinx you."

"You wouldn't!" he said mockingly.

Lily sighed. James Potter was the most utterly infuriating boy in the world. Why did he have to chase after _her, _of all people? There were plenty of other girls in Hogwarts, and she really could do without this.

"Fine," she snapped. "If you won't leave, I will." She rolled up her essay, grabbed her textbooks and marched up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. At least there she could be on her own and have some chance of keeping her sanity.


	15. Come Back

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 6, Divination Task 4: Write about someone wishing on a star.

417 words without A/N.

* * *

Hermione sat outside the tent, shivering in the cold of the autumn night. Slytherin's locket weighed heavily on her chest. It was two weeks since Ron had abandoned the hunt for the Horcruxes, and she still couldn't get his voice out of his head.

"_Oh, I get it. You choose him."_

"No, Ron," she whispered. "I'm not choosing Harry over you. I'm trying to stop Voldemort."

She hated him for abandoning them – abandoning _her. _He didn't care about her at all, not if he'd just walked out like that. All those years she'd longed for him to stop being an idiot and act on his feelings for her, and they never even existed.

Had all those glances been her imagination? Had he actually liked Lavender at first, rather than just trying to make her jealous? Had he even cared when she'd taken McLaggen to Slughorn's party last year?

She shook her head. The Horcrux was influencing her, just as it had influenced Ron. It was causing this onset of despair. Ron cared about her. He would come back, just as soon as his temper had cooled off. She ripped the locket from her neck and held it in the palm of her hand, staring at its dark green surface.

"Lord Voldemort," she muttered angrily. "Stop messing with my head. Ron is going to come back."

She stared up at the stars and tried to feel comforted, but it was no good: she felt so small, so insignificant under their cold gaze. They were distant, dispassionate, uncaring.

It wasn't like her to be superstitious, but she suddenly remembered a story her mother had told her, many years ago, before Hogwarts, when she'd been wanting to get a particular book from Santa for Christmas but was convinced her letter wouldn't reach him in time.

"_Wish upon a star," _she'd been told. "_Pick out a star you recognise, and just stare at it and make a wish. It will come true."_

She had, indeed, got the book she'd wanted, but of course that had nothing to do with the wish she'd made. But something made her long to try it again. She found the Plough in the sky and followed the line of stars until she found Polaris, the North Star, and fixed her eyes on it.

"I don't know if you can hear me," she whispered. "I don't know if you care. But if there's something in this thing, if it works… I wish for Ron to come back."


	16. The Scent of Love and Pain

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Assignment 6, Photography Task Five: Write a story involving flowers.

And the Spring Seasonal Challenges:

(plot) Being distracted in class

A memory triggered by a scent

(object) watering can

(colour) scarlet

(dialogue) "I trust you."

(theme) growth

(object) plant pot

(AU) Wings

Mixed-gender friendship

Ernie Macmillan

(word) radiant

Character/group of characters recovering from an illness of injury

And the Ultimate Battle Competition: (season) spring

713 words excluding A/N.

* * *

Daphne walked slowly to the greenhouse for Herbology, watching the other students soar through the sky, and sighed.

She'd suffered a freak accident involving a nasty mix of curses in Defence Against the Dark Arts a few days ago that had seriously damaged her wings, and despite Madam Pomfrey's best efforts she still hadn't been pronounced clear to fly.

Still, there was plenty to be happy about: the sun was shining, spring was in the air and Professor Sprout had promised a surprise for the seventh- and eighth-years. She'd be back in the air before long.

The moment she stepped into the greenhouse, cluttered with old plant pots, she could smell the precise musty scent of Theo's clothes, and her mind flew back to the Battle of Hogwarts.

_They could hear curses being cast outside, many of them Unforgivable, as they sheltered, pressed together, under a table in the Transfiguration classroom._

_"You okay?" asked Theo._

_"Okay as I'm going to get," muttered Daphne. "But Astoria won't be. If she gets accidentally hit by anything, she won't stand a chance. We've got to get to her."_

_"Yup. But it's dangerous out there. So many stray curses flying, it's a risk to go anywhere. I could lose you, Daph."_

_"I'll be fine," she replied. "I have to be."_

_"I trust you," said Theo. "If you want to go, we'll go." He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her into a kiss, letting go with the utmost reluctance. "Let's get this over with," he muttered. "Ready to die?"_

_"If I die with you, at least we'll still be together."_

_They pulled themselves out from underneath the table, holding hands, and then Theo opened the door._

_The Killing Curse hit him a second later. He didn't stand a chance._

She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes and sighed. Then it hit her: if Theo was dead, how was his scent here?

"Daphne, are you all right?"

Her head snapped round, and she relaxed when she saw it was only Ernie Macmillan. To her surprise, she'd found herself becoming friends with the boy since the battle. They'd both lost loved ones there, and it drew them closer together. He wasn't too bad, really, for a Hufflepuff.

"Yes – fine – just that scent reminded me of – "

"Theo, right," said Ernie. "I could smell Justin as well."

Professor Sprout smiled as she called the class to attention. "Gather round, gather round," she said, "Come closer. I have a very special treat for you all today, something that only happens once a century: our Flutterby bushes are flowering."

_Oh._ "Of course," said Daphne. "They change their scent to attract the unwary, and it made me – " she sighed.

"Makes sense," agreed Ernie. "Seems a bit mean to do that to us, though."

"Who can tell me the special properties of the Flutterby bush?"

Granger's hand shot up, and Daphne cracked a smile. Some things never changed.

"They quiver and shake back and forth, and when they flower, they change their scent to attract the unwary. I can smell fresh parchment."

"Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, if you'd like to come and look at the bushes…"

She moved aside, allowing the class to see the three bushes behind her. They were indeed quivering and shaking, and Daphne could clearly see their radiant scarlet flowers. It was beautiful, but now she knew exactly what the plant could do also quite horrifying.

"Now, the bushes don't need pruning at the moment, but they could do with some watering. Grab a can, everyone, but be careful not to get too close."

Daphne hung back as the students surged forward to grab the cans: she told herself that it was because she didn't want to be caught up in the scrum, but knew that it was also because she didn't want to get too close to the plant and its treacherous scent.

"Sorry," said Ernie. "Are you okay with this?"

"I can cope," she said, a slight edge to her voice. "I've grown a lot since the battle, and I can deal with a stupid flower that changes its scent to lure you in."

"If you need to talk, I'll be there."

"Thank you," she replied. "I'll be all right, though."


	17. Waiting for Harry

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 7, Aquatic Studies Task Ten: write about staying up all night.

And Ultimate Battle Competition: next-gen.

1104 words excluding A/N.

* * *

"It's eleven o'clock at night," said Ginny wearily. "Far too late for you to be staying up."

"We want to be here when Daddy comes home!" protested Lily.

"Daddy's out catching nasty men," Ginny explained. "He's not going to be back until very late. Go to bed now, then you'll see him in the morning."

"But you're staying up for him," James pointed out.

"That's different. I'm a lot older than you, I don't need my sleep as much as you do."

"That doesn't make sense," protested James. "Everyone needs sleep."

"Yes, but when you're young you need it even more. Otherwise you'll be tired tomorrow, and we won't be able to take you all flying."

"I don't want to go flying," said Albus. "I want to stay up until Daddy comes home. What if he's hurt or something and we're asleep and don't find out?"

Ginny winced. How could he express her own fears for Harry so accurately? "Then you can find out in the morning," she said, her patience beginning to run out.

Lily frowned. "But we won't be able to sleep until we know he's safe," she said.

"Yeah," said James. "I'll just lie in bed all night and not sleep. There's no point in going to bed."

Ginny sighed. It wouldn't do them any good to stay up all night, but her children were just as stubborn as their parents had been and she could tell she wasn't going to get them to bed. "All right," she said finally. "You can stay up."

The children's faces broke into little grins. "Thank you, Mummy," said Albus.

"Now, what are we going to do while we wait for him?" asked Ginny.

"I want to build a den!" said James. "Can we build a den?"

"Yeah!" said Lily.

"What are you going to build it out of?" Ginny asked.

"Blankets and cushions and furniture and whatever we can find," said James.

"All right," said Ginny. "Let's build a den."

They all got to their feet and began searching the house for den-building materials. Cushions were flung off the sofas, duvets taken from the beds upstairs, chairs dragged halfway across the house until the living room was filled with a massive, chaotic pile of stuff.

"Right," said James. "What have we got? If we put the chairs like this, we can drape the blankets over the top…" He dragged one chair into position to demonstrate his point.

"I want to have a big rug for the floor," said Lily. "Then it'll all be nice and cosy."

"Sure," said James. "Let's use this one, it's really soft and fluffy. Then we can put the chairs on top…"

Ginny smiled as she moved the chairs to where her son wanted them, arranged in a circle around the edge of the rug. They draped blankets over the edges of the chairs so their edges trailed on the floor.

James stared at what they had so far. "It needs a roof," he said. "But none of the blankets are big enough to go all the way over the top."

"Do we have some kind of wood we can use to prop up the top?" asked Albus.

James grinned. "Brilliant, Al! If we pile up a few chunks of firewood in the middle, we can have the blankets on top of that!"

"You need to be careful with the wood," said Ginny. "Otherwise you might get splinters."

"It's fine, Mummy," said James, glaring at Ginny. "Come on, Al. Let's fetch some wood."

The two boys went off together to find the right-sized wood chunks, leaving Ginny and Lily alone.

"What d'you think of the den so far, then?" asked Ginny.

"It's nice," replied Lily. "I like it. I think it could be prettier, though. Can I make it pretty?"

"Of course you can," said Ginny, smiling. "What do you want to add?"

"Toys," she said. "All my little creatures."

"Why don't you go and find them, then?" asked Ginny.

Lily nodded eagerly and scampered off.

Ginny smoothed down the blankets, adjusting them a little, and tried not to think about how worried she was. Harry had promised her he'd be back by half past ten, almost an hour ago now, and he'd never been late before.

She sighed and shook her head in an effort to clear it of worries.

"What d'you think?"

Ginny looked up to see her boys returning, arms full of wood. "Looks good," she said, smiling. "Do you want some help arranging it?"

"It's okay," replied James. "We can manage, can't we, Al?"

"Sure. I guess. Where did Lily go?"

"She wanted to get some decorations."

"Why do we need decorations?" asked James dismissively. "The den looks cool enough as it is, it doesn't need anything else."

"Lily wants to add some," said Ginny gently, watching carefully as the boys began piling up the wood.

"Can you fetch some large elastic bands?" asked James. "We need some to hold the blankets in place."

"Where are they?" Albus asked.

"Don't worry," said Ginny, "I'll get them." She walked off to fetch the elastic bands from the draw in the next room, but stopped when she heard the sound of the front door. Her heart leapt and she raced into the hall in time to envelop Harry in a massive bear hug.

"Come on, Ginny, let me breathe," he said, pulling away and adjusting his glasses. "So sorry I'm late."

"It's fine," Ginny replied. "The kids are still up, they wanted to see you come home and I couldn't convince them to go to bed. They're building a den out of blankets and chairs in the living room."

Harry grinned. "Let's go and see how they're getting on, shall we?"

By the time they got back, James was balancing on the woodpile and struggling to attach a blanket to the top, while Albus stood anxiously below and Lily carefully arranged her soft toys around the entrance.

"Hello," said Harry. "You've been busy, haven't you?"

All three children immediately dashed over and hugged Harry, who collapsed comically to the ground. "Get off me," he said, "you're heavy!"

"Daddy! You're home! Mummy was ever so worried," said Albus.

"No, I wasn't," lied Ginny. "I knew you'd come back to us."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," said Harry.

"Can we stay up and play in the den tonight?" asked James.

Ginny glanced at her watch. "It's getting close to midnight," she said.

"Can we?" added Lily, making her cutest puppy eyes. "Please?"

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other and smiled. "How can we say no?" asked Ginny.


	18. Checkmate

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 8, Task 7: Write about a witch or wizard participating in a popular Muggle activity.

* * *

Ron stared at the board, frowning. This was a lot harder than he was used to without his pieces giving him advice or telling him what to do. "Pawn to f4," he said finally, wondering why he'd let Hermione talk him into playing Muggle chess.

Hermione laughed. "It doesn't work like that," she said, "you have to physically move it yourself."

Ron sighed, picked up the offending pawn, and moved it. "Your move," he said.

Hermione studied the arrangement of the pieces for a moment, tucking her hair back behind her ears, before finally moving her rook to g3, attacking his bishop.

"Been practicing recently?" asked Ron. "You've improved a lot since we last played."

"That was _wizard's _chess," Hermione pointed out, adjusting one of her pawns. "It's harder to get used to. And we haven't played for years, not since… was it fifth year now?"

"I think so. I know we barely spoke to each other in sixth year, and then there was the Horcrux hunt and… I guess we never really got back into it. I hadn't realised how out of practice I was. You could actually beat me here." He picked up the bishop and slid it slowly along the diagonal until it was attacking Hermione's isolated pawn.

"I wouldn't be too worried," said Hermione, quickly moving her queen to defend the pawn. "I have no plan at all."

"You'd say that even if you had a plan. Speaking of plans – check."

Hermione sighed and moved her king out of check. "That bishop move was just a distraction from your actual attack, wasn't it?"

"Partly," replied Ron. "Partly it lets me do this." He moved the bishop three squares along to attack her king. "Checkmate."

Hermione slapped her forehead. "How did I not see that coming?" she asked. "You were planning this all along, pretending to be playing badly, bluffing me into not seeing that checkmate."

"You're too easy to fool, 'Mione."

"Because I never expected you to be trying to fool me. I guess you're usually too straightforward and easy to read for me even to suspect you'd be bluffing."

"You underestimate me."

"I guess you're right. But don't think I'm letting you get away with that ever again."


	19. Lost in the Corridors

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment Nine, Games and Sports Task Three: write about getting lost

404 words without A/N.

* * *

The corridors of Hogwarts never behaved in a normal way. You could be going up a narrow staircase to the fourth floor when suddenly it would turn and take you down to the first, or follow a familiar corridor only to discover that it took you somewhere different on Fridays, or think a door is locked when in reality you just needed to lick the handle to get it to open.

Dean had been trying to navigate them for almost a week now, and he hadn't even started to get the hang of it. He was trying to get to Charms class on the fourth floor, but the stairs he'd used last time seemed to have disappeared and he was left wandering aimlessly around the fifth floor, looking for some way down.

He'd tried asking the portrait of a very serious-looking monk for directions, but that only confused him: the monk was talking about corridors which (probably) didn't exist and were no help to him. So now he was utterly, hopelessly lost.

Dean wondered vaguely why they didn't give first-years a map of the castle to help prevent this kind of thing from happening: at any Muggle school they would have done. Possibly students were expected to have superhuman navigation abilities, or the teachers thought it would be "character-building" to get horribly lost.

Either way, he thought, it was crazy to let eleven-year-olds loose in a magical castle without giving them any clue where they were supposed to go. In fact, he was starting to wonder whether the teachers here were all mad.

Not that helped him find his way to Charms: he'd left half an hour early but had only ten minutes left to somehow find his way there. He sighed and turned to walk in the other direction, hoping something would happen to help him.

And something did: a girl with curly blonde hair, a uniform trimmed with Ravenclaw blue and a prefect badge walked around the corner.

"Hey," said Dean. "I'm kind of a bit lost, would you mind showing me the way to Charms?"

"Sure," she said. "Just follow me…" She led him along the corridor and peeled back a portrait to reveal a narrow stone passageway leading upwards.

"There you are," she said. "Go up there and it should bring you out just opposite the classroom."

"Thank you!" said Dean, immensely relieved, and set off up the little passage.


	20. Twin Banter

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 10, Religious Education task six: write about enjoying a warm summer day.

373 words, excluding A/N.

* * *

The sky was a deep, clear blue, empty of clouds. The Hogwarts grounds were filled with students enjoying the beautiful summer weather. Among them were the Patil twins, sprawled in the shade beneath the branches of a large oak tree.

Padma was re-reading her Transfiguration textbook, trying to memorise precise definitions ahead of their upcoming exams. Parvati was staring at the interlocking branches above her and thinking lazily of how cute Dean was when he smiled.

"The Vanishing Charm," Padma muttered, "is a charm that can make an object – "

"Oh, do shut up," Parvati replied snappishly, annoyed by the interruption to her daydreams. "I'm trying to think about much more pleasant things."

"Like boys and clothes?" asked Padma scornfully. "That's all you ever think about. _I _think about passing my exams."

Parvati rolled her eyes. "My grades are good enough," she said. "I'm set to pass everything, and honestly I don't really care whether I get an Outstanding or an Acceptable as long as I get the grades I need for my N.E.W.T.s. Come on, Padma, live a little. What do you think of Terry's eyes?"

Padma blushed. How did her sister know that? She'd only told Mandy yesterday, and that only after having forced a promise of secrecy from her. How had the rumour spread so quickly? "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just… a little bird told me you quite liked the look of them," replied Parvati with a seemingly innocent smile. "That's all."

"Mandy Brocklehurst," Padma said grimly. "I could hex that girl. I told her to keep it a secret."

"So you admit it?" asked Parvati eagerly.

Padma groaned. "Look, if you won't talk about Terry, I won't talk about exams. Deal?"

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Deal."

"And don't you dare spread any more gossip about me and Terry," Padma added.

"Bit late for that," said Parvati. "Last I heard about it, even the Slytherins know exactly how you described – "

"Stop right there," said Padma, reaching into her pocket for her wand. "Otherwise I might have to hex you."

Parvati, well aware of how deadly her twin's hexes could be, flinched away and flung up her hands. "Okay, fine," she muttered. "I'll shut up now."


	21. The Faded Hilltop

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment 11, Thaumatology Task Two: write about more than one person having the same dream.

435 words without A/N.

* * *

It began with darkness. Daphne had never liked the dark; you could never quite be sure what was lurking in it. Was there a monster or a madman hidden in the shadows, waiting for the moment to strike?

There was someone there, she could sense it. Someone standing beside her in the darkness, someone waiting for her to open her eyes and see. But she was afraid, a coward, unable to face whoever it was.

And slowly, slowly, the darkness began to recede, a glimmer of light appearing on the horizon and spreading faster than the sunrise should until she could see her surroundings: she was on top of a heath, sandy paths and heather stretching out down the hill all around.

The wind suddenly began to blow, whipping her long blonde hair back and forth, and she wondered vaguely why it wasn't braided. She always braided her hair. Maybe this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. This wasn't how the real world worked.

She felt a soft touch on her hand: the person next to her was still there, she just wouldn't turn and face them. They were holding her hand, and she didn't know who they were because she was afraid to find out.

And then the moment was gone, the light had vanished. The wind was still howling and her hand was still held tightly, but she couldn't see.

It began with darkness. Theo quite liked the dark; it was a place where anything could happen, where the unknown monsters could help you forget the ones you knew about, the human ones. They were far more dangerous than anything his imagination could dream up.

There was someone there, he could sense it. Someone standing beside him in the darkness, waiting for him to look at them. But he couldn't, or wouldn't, because something was stopping him. He didn't want to answer the question of who was standing next to him.

The darkness slipped back like a blanket being removed, revealing a cold, windswept hilltop with battered heather clinging desperately to the sandy ground. Theo felt the wind messing with his hair; it was longer than it should have been, he'd cut it recently.

Everything suddenly felt very unreal, very superficial, as if what was really happening was something altogether different from what he could see. Slowly, he reached out to the person beside him until he felt the soft touch of their hands brushing against each other.

And still, neither could look at the other, even as they tightened their grips on each other's hands, even as everything began to fade away.


	22. One Year Later

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Zoology task eight: write about a celebration. 389 words excluding A/N.

* * *

May the second, 1999. The first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War. A day for celebration. Minerva had been run off her feet for weeks by now trying to get everything set up, and it didn't help that there were so many more students than normal with half of them repeating various years.

But as she stared out across the Great Hall, decorated with multi-coloured banners made by the students themselves, people mingling together instead of divided by their Houses just as they had been a year ago, she could tell that all of the effort had been worth it.

The feast was even more spectacular than normal: the house-elves had outdone themselves with perfectly-cooked juicy meats and vegetables that had been in the giant ovens for just the right amount of time, and the _desserts!_

Minerva wasn't normally a fan of desserts, since cats couldn't taste sweetness, but the students certainly loved them judging by the way their eyes lit up as they appeared on the tables and the speed at which they then disappeared into hundreds of hungry stomachs.

They'd found little cherubs to fly around covering the room with rainbow confetti (not everyone was best pleased when some landed on their plates, although most laughed it off and threw it at their friends), and the light streamed down from the enchanted ceiling (fortunately the weather was beautifully sunny).

She saw Hermione Granger and Ginevra Weasley sitting beside each other, laughing at something hilarious Luna Lovegood had said (Blibbering… Humdingers? Was that it?) Not everyone was so happy, of course: Dennis Creevey, who'd lost his older brother Colin in the battle, sat at the normally-Gryffindor table, the seat beside him filled by a battered old camera, and some of the older Slytherins were still in their little group, shunned by the rest of the school.

But the overall atmosphere was one of happiness and positivity at how far they had come in the last year: Hogwarts was as strong as it used to be, if not stronger, and they hadn't had a single peculiar accident (probably because Harry Potter wasn't around to be a walking trouble magnet any more), even with the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers.

Yes, for once it had been a good year at Hogwarts.


	23. A Frozen Morning

For Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Assignment One, Meteorology Task Four: write about something or someone frozen

386 words, excluding A/N.

* * *

The world was frozen.

The grass that surrounded the little cottage was painted with silver-white frost, crunching under Susan's feet as she slowly walked down the hill. The air was icy, icy enough that her thick coat wasn't enough to keep the chill from her bones and her breath spilled out like smoke.

"Remind me why we're doing this?" asked Justin, shivering. "We could be sitting indoors by the fire."

"It's beautiful," said Susan. "Isn't it?" She gestured to the trees they were heading towards, their branches bare and cold, sharply outlined against the grey sky.

"It is," Justin agreed. "But not beautiful enough to be worth freezing to death for. Nothing is that beautiful. Not even you."

It was a good thing that Susan's cheeks were already red from the cold; it made her embarrassment that much harder to detect. "Come on," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the trees. The golden-brown leaves were frozen stiff. She picked one up and let it crunch in her hand, ignoring the stab of cold that shot through her body.

"It's so fragile," she said, thoughts wandering. "So easily broken."

"If this is going to turn into some kind of metaphor," Justin snapped, "I don't want to hear it."

"Where's your sense of poetry and romance and beauty?" asked Susan, rolling her eyes.

"You know I never had one."

"Let me teach you," said Susan.

"Can't I learn indoors?"

Susan shot him a stare almost as frosty as the ground. "That's not how it works." She picked up another leaf. "But fine. No metaphors. Let's just enjoy it for what it is. Don't you think that crunching sound is lovely?" She let its fragments float gently to the ground.

Justin nodded. He picked up a leaf of his own, but instead of crunching it he tossed it at her, so it hit her face.

Susan scooped up an entire handful and flung them at Justin so that they fell and clung to his coat.

"Take that back," spat Justin, gathering up another pile of leaves.

"Look," replied Susan, ducking quickly, "you started it. It's not my fault." She laughed as she reached to the ground to re-arm herself.


End file.
